Why would finding a bush covered in sloe berries, make me the happiest I’ve felt in a long time? There’s something so primeval about gathering berries, I must be boring down deeply into my hunter – gatherer instincts. Or perhaps I’m just plain “boring”? No don’t answer that!
I was so happy a few months back to see the little purple beads appear particularly as I’d discovered an enormous supply, way more plentiful than the whole village required (even though I was secretly hoping no-one else would be competing). I knew I’d left it a bit late but my forager book said sloes can still be gathered in November. And I had been warned not to go in the field while the cows were still there with their calves. So when I finally made it into the field last week I was so shocked and miserable that there was not a single berry left. Not one. On the entire length of the hedgerow. The same one that had been laden with sloes looking like big bunches of grapes only a few months back.
I went looking elsewhere with a heavy heart. How you might feel looking for a cat when it’s been missing too long. I found the odd berry here and there, even managed a couple of handfuls on one walk. I thought I’d have one final look and had skirted 3 of the 4 sides of the field I was in, when I came across this:
JOY!
I felt like I’d found the last s*dding bush in the world with any sloes on it. And only 5 mins walk from the house. How could I have missed it? It was ridiculously covered in fruit. As if all the sloes in a 5 mile radius had blown off their bushes and onto this one bush. The sun even came out. And how beautiful that bush looked with it’s contrast of colours. The Sunshine yellow leaves. The chalky lilac bloom and the nightshade purple of the sloes. I picked 6lbs of fruit, left about another 4lbs and almost skipped home, so happy I was. That was until the reality sunk in about having to stone all the pesky berries! Roll on, the 6 litres of sloe vodka. Yum!
